


Anything But Love

by Marvelicious (Jayjaybe)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual, Past one night stand, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/pseuds/Marvelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a crack like a whip when he releases the spell work, fixes on Tony and smothers him under the force of his own will. For all the resistance he’d anticipated, there’s nothing. Nothing but the expanse of every firing synapse, inviting Loki in like it’s a red-carpet event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But Love

“Hello Tony.”

The man whipped around without a second’s hesitation, startled and clearly ill at ease if the way his fingers found the tabletop behind him was any indication, gripping it tightly for something to hold on to – the desperate way Tony always sought out his cold, metal comforts. “Loki.” His tone was casual when he spoke though, his constant bravado betraying the harsh thump of his heartbeat as his eyes flickered over the demi-god in his workshop like a trapped animal. “Somehow I take it this isn’t a social visit.”

Loki considered him for a moment more, eyes drawn to the slight glow of the arc reactor beneath his shirt, the unprotected expanse of skin as Tony crossed his arms above it. “But I did come to be social, Mr. Stark – more or less.” He chuckled, slinking a bit closer to cut the man off from his magnificent suits.

“Well in that case I really must insist we catch up some other time; maybe grab a drink, head to a theater…” He jokes, but he’s clearly apprehensive. The way he has never been before.

Tony’s clearly off his game and Loki doesn’t give him a chance to finish. “You are a fascinating man,” His magic is crackling through the air, creating a buzz that he’s certain Stark can feel. “And the funny thing is, I can’t help but wonder why. What’s so special about you Tony? You’re nothing but a man who hides from the world with a metal façade.” _Why am I drawn to you? How is it that you make magic too?_

“Loki –” But he doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to find himself drawn in to the wit and charm that Tony seems to summon nearly as easily as his own silver tongue. He’s not here for a chat, for excuses. Loki finds himself wanting answers that only he can find buried in the enigma of this man.

There’s a crack like a whip when he releases the spell work, fixes on Tony and smothers him under the force of his own will. For all the resistance he’d anticipated, there’s nothing. Nothing but the expanse of every firing synapse, inviting Loki in like it’s a red-carpet event.

“Come here,” He says, and can feel the twist of muscles as Tony’s fingers slip from their grip on the table, legs propelling him forward until he stands in front of his master. His expression’s blank, unfeeling, and he stands there with the look of a misplaced action figure – lost and stiffly posed. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. Tell me this, where are you, Tony?”

There’s no response, but Loki brushes it off with little annoyance. The man has succumbed to him completely – perhaps he was not so strongly willed as Loki thought. Surely that should bring him satisfaction, but it doesn't.

A flick of his fingers sends a chair flying towards them, and he captures it easily, slipping down into its embrace to watch the show. “Strip.” There’s a little flicker of something, or perhaps it’s just the light from the reactor as Tony tugs off his shirt.

It’s not the usual show he would put on. Tony undresses quickly and efficiently, letting his clothing fall to the floor behind him. The only real surprise is his boxers – an emerald almost identical to the color Loki wore the last time they met. But perhaps that’s just a coincidence. “Tell me you think about me too. All the time.”

“I think about you Loki,” Tony tells him hollowly, “All the time.” He stands there still, waiting for further orders. Perfect obedience.

“Ride me.”

Loki leans back, allows the human to climb onto his lab. Tony’s gorgeous, face going slack as he reaches behind himself to make room for Loki’s cock; those same hands that he uses to bring machines to life freeing Loki from his clothing and guiding them together. Tony sinks onto his cock, empty eyes locked on Loki’s the entire time as a reminder that _this time_ he’s in control of the situation. “Isn’t that right Tony?”

It’s not like he was really expecting a response. Loki’s perfectly content to watch the motion of Tony’s ass slipping up and down on his cock. It’s oddly hypnotic, lulling him into a state of reflection. Tony’s expression is completely blank once more, dead-eyed like one of his empty suits, even as he moves. And suddenly Loki finds himself speaking.

“Without your suit you are nothing!” He's angry. So angry that this mortal doesn't even have the fortitude to fight his control, that he's managed to worm his way under Loki's smooth exterior – that he's as much as in control as Loki is and he doesn't even know it. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” He does as he’s told, and it’s calming. A reminder that once again, Loki is the one in control here.

“How did you manage to worm your way in to my emotions? It was one night’s mistake – tell me it affected you more.” He won't remember this. Loki can say what he likes, but it feels like a mistake to his own ears to voice it all the same.

“It affected me more.” Tony echoes, channeling his mechanical creations.

“Tell me you can’t help wanting me. Tell me it’s wrecked you completely.”

“I can’t help but want you. It’s wrecked me – completely.” There’s no real emotion behind the words, but the lip service is enough for now. Loki thrusts upward to throw his steady pace off, Tony’s rhythm faltering as he tries to accommodate. His ass clenches deliciously around Loki for a moment, and the demigod grabs his hips, tugging him back down over his cock in the heat of the moment.

“Why do I want you Tony? Let me tell you a story, and maybe if you’re good I’ll let you remember this nightmare. 

“There was once an invincible man of iron. A man who stood for honor, justice – but then, when his faceplate was peeled back – this man knew nothing of either. He was chaotic and lost and reminded me so much of myself that it was only natural to accept the hand offered – to drag him down with my own bad intentions.

“How is it then that I can’t stop thinking about it? That I came here because I needed a comparison to prove that what happened was just a fluke?”

Tony continues to stare on blankly, working like a machine to bring Loki to his climax. “But it’s not. Why isn’t it?” Loki can’t resist bringing a hand up, stroking along the curve of his partner’s cheekbone and down his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble and the vulnerable skin beneath. “It’s erotic. Exquisite. Perhaps you were simply made to be ruled by me. Tell me so.”

“I was made to be ruled by you.”

“Loki. Say my name.”

“Loki.”

The word is his undoing, the sound of his own name falling from Tony Stark’s lips once again enough to push Loki over the edge. He grabs the human’s hips once more, pulls him down hard and fast as his hips stutter with his release, and he holds Tony there for what feels like centuries. Their eyes are locked together as he fills Tony with his cum, and Loki realizes that he’s done for with complete, earth-shaking certainty.

“Kiss me.” He commands. Since he’s already gone too far, he might as well go all the way now.

Tony leans over, presses his lips to Loki’s in a much sweeter gesture than either of them would be thought capable. Their tongues brush together, tangle for a moment, and Tony surrenders his mouth to Loki. He wants to explore, to claim everything this mortal is, but they’re out of time.

 

Loki leaves like a thief, slipping out unnoticed while Tony Stark is still draped across one of his tables in a slumber. When he wakes, he’ll have no memory of the hours before – alone and disoriented as if from a very strange dream – the kind that vanishes upon waking and can never be recalled.


End file.
